The Unbecoming

Sometimes, although very rarely, the
Universe collapses into itself, in a
Strange, seemingly harmless combustion of
Air and nothingness, and the trees and
Flowers disappear into the spaces between
The grass, and the people, going about their
Daily routine, suddenly freeze in well-timed,
Spontaneous seconds of frenzy, and all the
Words and letters curve their backs and
Lean against themselves, until the gears of
The universe begin to move again, and soon, the
Trees and flowers appear from underneath the
Grass, and the people begin to walk home as if
Nothing had really changed, and all the
Words and letters stand upright, waiting to be
Smeared with ink and vulnerability.

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3 thoughts on “The Unbecoming

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